Happy Thanksgiving!

Bonjour tout le monde,
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we are carrying on a tradition that was started years ago by my parents.  My then husband's cousin had just married a woman from Mexico.  Her parents hadn't yet met him, and were coming up for Thanksgiving just for that purpose - and to spend time with their daughter and son, both of whom lived in California.  My parents had already invited Michael and his wife for dinner; when they learned that her parents were going to be here too, they didn't hesitate to extend the invitation to them also.  Her parents didn't speak any English, my parents and grandparents (who were still alive) didn't speak any Spanish. Neither do I, but Marcella and her brother spoke both, so we were good.

Marcella's parents weren't so hot on their daughter marrying a black man; all they knew about African-Americans is what they saw on television, which means that all they saw were gangsters, prostitutes and the like. Imagine their surprise when they sat down to share a turkey dinner with four generations of a family that looked nothing like they had ever seen.  The dinner was full of fun and laughter, with a lot of translation help from Marcella and her brother.  Our evening ended with hugs all around and a standing invitaiton to visit her parents in Mexico.

That Thanksgiving dinner said a lot about my parents, who always let me do what I wanted (within reason, you know...) and have always supported me.  My grandparents deserve some credit also; with my grandfather being a minister, the tradition of having others in one's home was ingrained in my mother and uncles.  These wonderful people welcomed total strangers into their home, because they were visitors, and also because they were related to good friends.  I still marvel at that dinner, and when I have a little time I will try to find a photo from that Thanksgiving.

This Thanksgiving, I am blessed to have two of our five children, plus their spouses and significant others, my 96 year old dad, and close friends who are just like family.  I will stress over what tablecloths to use, how to arrange the table (or tables), and figure out an oven schedule to accomodate our cooking.  At the end of tomorrow evening, I will be very tired, and probably a little cranky (in that case, just hand me another glass of wine) but so happy that we had another successful Thanksgiving filled with love, laughter, and some really good food.
How about you?

from a long ago family meal - not sure if it is Thanksgiving

Liberty and freedom

Bonjour tout le monde,
I am doing some research about France and World War 1, especially since this week included Armistice Day in France.  During  the research, I found out how the Americans dealt with the German population here in the States.  It is said that Americans were so suspicious of Germans that they killed German shepherds.  Before WWI, the second most spoken language in the US was German, but German language books were banned and burned.  Frankfurters, hamburgers, sauerkraout and dachshuds all got new names:  Liberty dogs, burgers, liberty cabbage and liberty dogs were created. 
Freedom fries, anyone?  I guess that this generation is not the first to change the names of things that they didn't like.

A new Toastmasters Club is forming!

Bonjour tout le monde!
A few months ago, I joined Toastmasters.  I'm having a lot of fun learning how to be a better speaker, and meeting new people.  There are new clubs being born every day, and I am helping to found a club based on my passion: French.
The Vive la France Toastmasters club is holding its informational meeting this Saturday, 15 November 2014, 2 pm.  See the flyer below, and if you're interested, email me for more info.
Toastmasters has afforded me the opportunity to not only grow as a speaker, but also as a leader.  I am excited about this new club that will allow me to have fun as I continue to expand my horizons.

Reflections on Berlin Wall

Bonjour tout le monde!

Today marks the 25th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.  That made me think of when I got to visit Berlin for the first time.  It was in 1975, I was spending the winter in Paris, and I traveled to West Berlin to visit a Stanford Band friend - Jerry Nelson.  It was February, and I spent all day traveling on the train from Paris to West Berlin.  Once we left Hanover, the train entered East German territory, which was a little disconcerting. Many East German soldiers with German shepherd dogs walking up and down the tracks and under trains for those who might try to escape that way.   Fortunately, I had just finished one year of German,so I had some conversational skills.

Arriving in West Berlin at 11:30 pm brought its own worries.  Was I at the right station?  Would Jerry be there, and if he wasn't, how was I to navigate the German public phone system (in those days, making a phone call on the public phones was different in every country, and that was after you had changed some money to the local currency - things that we no longer really have to worry about). To my great relief, he was there; we went out to a great, but smoke filled pub for some awesome sausages and potatoes.  

In those days, West Berlin was this little spot in the middle of Eastern Germany.  Travel anywhere out of the little dot required a passport, more German skills than I had, and local knowledge.  We went to East Berlin to see the museums, going through the Friedrichstrasse tram station instead of Checkpoint Charlie because it was less crowded.  Since it was winter, everyone was bundled up (see below) including the Soviet soldiers in their huge coats and furry caps.  We had to change our West German marks for East German ones (1 for 1, unlike the black market, where WG marks sold for 33 to 1 EG mark).  The main difference to me is that once inside, everything was cold and colorless.  I went from cosmopolitan West Berlin to a city where I was the only person of color at all.  Pale, blond and blue eyed was pretty much the standard look on that side of the wall, and I was the object of many stares - Jerry said it was because I was so pretty, but I knew that I was different.  I was pretty happy when Jerry and I got off the tram in West Berlin.

We also went to see the Checkpoint Charlie museum, which explains the genesis of the Wall, plus many of the ways that East  Germans used to make it out.  Small spaces created in even smaller Volkswagens, suitcases glued together that created enough room for a small woman, ladders, drilling equipment, you name it, used by those desperate to leave the East for a better life.

If you have the chance to go to Berlin, now all one city, you need to go.  See where the Wall once stood, visit the museums in the former East Berlin, plus the one at Checkpoint Charlie.  Look at some of the memorials that still have the holes and pockmarks created by gunfire during a war that is long over.  Words will fail you, as they do me at this moment.

Happy 25th anniversary, broken Berlin Wall...

Me, in West Berlin, 1975